


house arrest

by itisjosh



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Escape, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Humor, No Angst, Phil Watson-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot-centric, ghostbur isnt Quite ghostbur, house arrest, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28767495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/pseuds/itisjosh
Summary: "House arrest is boring. I'm going to go outside."Phil sighs. "You're not allowed to do that, Will. There's a reason both of us are on house arrest," Phil points down to his ankle monitor, motioning to Wilbur's matching one. "You tried sneaking me out through the tunnels, Will." Wilbur raises an eyebrow at him, giving him a pathetic, half-hearted shrug that really doesn't mean much."To be fair, Fundy wasn't supposed to be there."
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 286





	house arrest

Phil doesn't know if he should necessarily feel _guilty_ about wanting to kill a child, but he does know that he doesn't feel guilty in the slightest. He leans back against one of his walls, staring up at the floor above him, listening to Wilbur shuffle around up there with Friend. Phil sighs, listening to his son move things around, laughing under his breath every few minutes. "Hey, fucker," Phil calls, tilting his head up to stare directly up at the ceiling. "Get the fuck down from there, Will. I don't want you to break shit."

"Oh, Philza Minecraft," Wilbur chides. Phil watches his head pop up, locks eyes with his upside-down sun. "You've no faith in me, do you? That hurts. That hurts, Philza. I may or may not just cry," Wilbur grins at him, his hair hanging in front of his face. Phil sighs again, wondering how many times he can kill his own son before people start to ask questions. As much as Phil loves his kids, this particular child is so fucking insufferable that it's nearly shocking that Phil didn't dropkick him when he was a child. "Father dearest," Wilbur sing-songs, falling through the floor. "House arrest is _boring_. I'm going to go outside." 

Phil sighs. "You're not allowed to do that, Will," he reminds his middle child. "There's a reason both of us are on house arrest," Phil points down to his ankle monitor, motioning to Wilbur's matching one. "You tried sneaking me out through the _tunnels_ , Will." Wilbur raises an eyebrow at him, giving him a pathetic, half-hearted shrug that really doesn't mean much. 

"To be fair, Fundy wasn't supposed to be there. And," Wilbur beams, "I can still get that monitor off of you, Philza. I'm not that useless, remember?" 

"Never said that," Phil points a finger at him, watching as it pokes through his son's chest. "You're a little shit, Wilbur. I'm going to kick you out of my house. You.." he sighs, gesturing down to his son's ankle monitor. "You can take that off. I don't know why you pretend like you can't."

Wilbur's entire face lights up, his pale brown and gold eyes shining in the light. "We're matching!" He grins, barking out a quiet laugh, clapping his hands together when he does. "Why wouldn't I want to match, Philza? I mean.." he shrugs, and Phil watches as his body becomes less solid, fading out of existence for only a moment. His ankle monitor clanks to the ground, and Wilbur reappears, picking it up and twirling it on his index finger. "One of us is free," he beams. "Do you think you can do that trick, too, Phil? I bet if you _really_ put your mind to it, you'd be able to." Phil sighs.

"No," he looks over to his stairs, wondering if he should try and fix his basement again. "I'm not quite dead, Will. I don't think I can literally disappear and come back in like, two seconds. That's not really something I can do."

"Well," Wilbur looks at him, unimpressed. "You're just boring."

Phil breathes in, closing his eyes as he tries to focus on not killing his ghost son. "Will, if you keep this shit up, I'm going to beat you to death with my bare hands."

"That's called _child abuse_ , Philza Minecraft," Wilbur tells him, ever so helpfully. "I think that's illegal. Unless Tubbo decided to make it legal, which would be a bad idea, since he's a child. But, anyways, not the point. Child abuse," Wilbur starts, "is wrong."

"You're not a child."

"But I'm your child," Wilbur reminds him. "Just because I've grown up and died doesn't mean you stop calling me your child or your kid. You don't suddenly start calling me your adult, now do you, Phil?" Phil breathes out, tapping his fingers against his arms. "I suppose you could, but that just sounds scuffed. I think that people would look at you funny if you started to do that. I know _I_ would look at you funny." 

"Will, can you just.. _cease_ ," Phil opens his eyes, pointing a finger at his son. "Shut. Silence. Belt. Halt." 

Wilbur grins at him. "Those all mean the same thing, Phil. I don't think you need to reiterate yourself a few thousand times to get your point across. I get," Wilbur holds up his hands in mock defense, moving to hover back on up to the floor above them both. "I'll leave. I see how it is, I understand. Though it does hurt my feelings, I understand. Anything for you, Philza Minecraft, anything for y-"

Phil flinches at the sound of a knock on his door. 

_Wait_. 

Tubbo rings the bell that he installed outside of Phil's house. Fundy and Quackity and Ranboo ring that same bell. 

Phil grins. 

"I think we've got a guest, Will," he moves away from his wall, watching as the door swings open half a second later. Techno stands in front of him, his hair a mess, his eyes tired. "Morning, Techno," Phil moves, motioning for his oldest son to come in. "Make yourself at home." Techno stares at him, obviously unimpressed by the joke. 

"I'm breakin' you out," Techno tells him. "And also you," he looks over to Wilbur. "Come on, I've got an axe and I think it'll be enough to pry off of you," Techno crouches to the ground, sliding said axe off of his back. "Stay still, Phil. I don't want to accidentally cut your foot off." 

"I think that'd be fucking hilarious," Wilbur inputs. "I think you should do that, Techno."

"Wilbur, shut up. Your talkin' is distractin' me." 

Phil sighs. "You're both so fucking annoying, Jesus Christ. You were even worse as kids, but now you've got, like, knives and shit. Aren't twins supposed to look after each other? You guys are both shit twins." Wilbur laughs, and Techno follows him after a few moments. Phil feels cool metal pressed to his foot, relaxing when he hears Techno breathe in. He trusts his oldest kid more than anyone else, he thinks. 

There's a brief pause, and then there's the sound of creaking metal, snapping wires and bent frames. Phil looks down, watching Techno stand back up, grinning. "Okay. Problem solved. Let's get outta here before they realise that I'm here. You too, Wilbur. You're comin' with." Wilbur grins, still spinning his ankle monitor around his finger. He flicks his finger, and the monitor flies with it, hitting the wall, dropping to the ground. 

"We're going to have to bring Friend, you know. He's my comfort sheep." 

"No."

"Techno," Wilbur whines. "Phil let you keep a pet fucking _Enderman_ in your house. Isn't that sort of weird? Ranboo is half Enderman, Technoblade. You've imprisoned one of his people." 

"Edward stays there by choice," Techno glares at him. "Fuck you."

Phil loops his arms around his sons, moving them along with them as he starts to walk. "Both of you can shut the fuck up," he smiles. "We'll come back for Friend tomorrow, when I've got my armour back. Wilbur, stop accusing your brother of enslaving an Enderman. Techno, stop making fun of Wilbur's sheep," Phil keeps walking, looking past the fence of his house. He can faintly see Quackity in the distance, though he doubts that the other can see him. "Back to the Antarctic Empire we go." 

House arrest, Phil thinks as he walks, could have been a hell of a lot worse.


End file.
